Three thousand miles north east
I left all my friends at the morning bus stop shaking their heads.
"What kind of life you dream of? You're allergic to love."
Yes I know but I must say in my own defense
-The Shins, Know Your Onion
They met at a club, the details of which are sketchy and a little daunting. The flirting started out as fun but quickly went into the realm of electrifying. They were both a bit tipsy, feeding off the energy of each other and the tenants around them until they both swayed out onto the dance floor to feel a different kind of buzz.
The man was old, really quite old, in his late thirties at least, with a gleaming gold ring on his finger, and when Sebastian first approached him with a beer, he'd been sure to introduce himself as a university student, not a seventeen year old in a preppy high school.
Mark – god, Mark, what a perfectly sexy name – took him away like nothing else, and looked at him, really looked. They danced like they were on fire and there was only so much to lose and Sebastian's head buzzed and soared because, finally, this was what he'd been missing in the month-long pursuit of flirt-turned-best-friend Blaine Anderson.
The song was some fruity wannabe comeback from the eighties that Mark hummed along to, but he didn't care because the man's hips were a thing of beauty and after the kissing started Sebastian couldn't hear the music over the pounding in his ears.
His arms, wound tightly around the man's neck; his legs, left open to accommodate the thigh shoved between them; his lips, eagerly awaiting the next hungry kiss.
They call the taxi soon after, leaving both their cars to stick around in the grimy parking lot, and arrive at some motel that Sebastian's seen too many times. They can barely walk, and the laugh lines – who knew such a thing would look so fine? – around Mark's eyes are crinkling up like the raisins Blaine had that afternoon when they cruised around the mall together, searching for presents for Kurt's birthday.
Room 17, and Sebastian just knows he's been here before but that's okay because it's a different body, a new mouth on his, new fingers that are drifting down and up and all around. He feels the familiar lurch of it all and embraces it like an old friend, shifting around to strip the button-down off Mark's shoulders, and tug his own shirt up over his head.
They're on the bed now and Sebastian knows the hands on him are practiced – fuck, an older man, how had he never considered it until now? – and he let's them run wherever, whenever because the sensation is driving him up the wall, out the door and across the street. The man above him, below him, above, keeps whispering these things, words that Sebastian is almost embarrassed by, these beautifuls and gods and so gorgeous, that he's not used to.
The last time he was on this bed, and he knows there was a last time, it was all cockslut, whore, sexy and of course, the classic – fuck. But hearing these things, these downright sappy claims of emotion from a man he just met, kind of makes him… different. In a way he can't quite understand.
At least until the pants are off and the boxers have been kicked across the room and then it's all about feeling. All those fickle thoughts seem to fly from his head while Mark is sliding fingers into him and there are kisses on his chest and he's working on a hickey that will make the older man's wife flip the shit when he finally gets home. He's waiting for the pain, waiting for that familiar feeling of being so full but so fucking empty, but it doesn't come because Mark's still looking at him like he was at the club, this look of pure amazement that Sebastian's never, ever seen before, and the hands on him haven't turned, haven't gripped and tightened and bruised.
A stretch, a burn, then bliss. Gently, moving hands, still rough enough to indulge but kind enough to caress before groping. Sebastian keeps moving, up down up down, until the fingers clench briefly and then he's underneath this smiling, brilliant, wise eyed man with the sunspots on his shoulders and the grey streaks behind his ears.
They continue until Mark cries out, hands shifting on either side of Sebastian's head, eyes tightened up, mouth slightly open. Mark lies there for a minute on top of him, reclaiming his breath and Sebastian – eyes high to the ceiling – almost scowls because they always turn out the same, but then he feels the hand squeeze between their bodies to the hard cock jutting out and then, all too soon, Sebastian is moaning and groaning and Mark's just chuckling, their noises blending in the air between them.
They wake up later, entangled with each other and the scratchy bed sheets, the sun hitting the bed, warming them slowly. The younger man's, a boy really, eyes fluttered, his eyelashes tickling his cheeks, the arm around his chest making him snuggle deeper into the pillows.
He opens his eyes to the deep blue of his companion's, sleepy and smiling, shifting above him while moving to sit against the headboard. Mark coaxes him up as well, and they sit like that for a second against the bed, listening to the dreary sounds of highway 32 behind them. Mark still has his arm around Sebastian, bringing them in close while his other hand plays with the sheets wrapped around them, fidgeting and twisting between them.
"I-" Sebastian looks up to see Mark staring at him intently, a slight smile on his face, "I don't think I remember you being quite as beautiful last night."
Sebastian laughs, there's that word again, and quirks a grin at him, "I'm already in bed with you Romeo, there's really no need for the sentiments." He watches Mark smirk and look away before deciding to get those pretty eyes back on him, "But thank you. I haven't been called that in a… in a long time."
Mark snorts, flicking his eyes to catch Sebastian's green, "I doubt that. Don't get out much?"
Now it was Sebastian's turn to laugh, "Oh no, the opposite actually. But I usually get less… poetic types following me into bed.
"Ah." Mark nods, smile fading a little, "The assholes always do get the pretty ones."
They stare at one another for a second, taking in the situation completely. Sebastian breaks first glancing down at Mark's hands, one tangled close to his, just a hair away, "So is your husband cool with you jumping into bed with anyone? Or was he there too last night?" he quirks his eyebrow up and shoots a look out the window, "Something to spice up the marriage?"
It's silent for a second and then Mark's arms tighten around him, moving Sebastian so that he's almost in the older man's lap. Lips find his ear shortly after, gently snatching at the warm skin there, "Ex-wife actually. And no, she doesn't."
The boy tilts his head back, resting it on Mark's shoulder, and grins up at him, "Why keep the ring then?"
"This ring gets me more play at Scandals than you'll ever know."
Sebastian laughs at that, letting his whole face light up for a minute, eyes crinkling up in the corners, the freckles on his nose dancing merrily in the morning sun. Mark takes this all in and wishes – wishes harder than he ever has.
"What about you then? You must have a boyfriend."
"Me?" the boy actually looks surprised at this, "No. No no, I mean – I sleep around, sure. And I've had ones before. But no."
Mark can't believe his luck, "Are all the boys at, what is it – Northwestern?" Sebastian nods a little, going with the lie easily, "Are they all blind or something?"
"Maybe."
Sebastian's eyes cant to the side and catch Mark's, wonderfully curious, and he grins again, "No honestly, I just… I'm in a good mood right now. Usually I'm pretty snarky. And a bit of an asshole, or so I'm told. The only person who can put up with me long-term is Alex, but he's still in Paris, and Blaine but he's already got a boyfriend so-"
"Wait, did you say Paris?"
"Oui. Paris." Sebastian's smile widens, "Don't tell me you get turned on by French."
"Can you name a single inhabitant of Earth who doesn't?"
"Non, monsieur. Quand je parle françias les hommes tombent á mes pieds. Vous regardez ma langue comme il roule. C'est mon meilleur truc."
Mark looked at Sebastian in slight wonder, "I have no idea what you just said."
Sebastian laughs again, leaning back against the older man's hard body and just enjoys it for a second. He's having fun. He is actually enjoying himself in the company of Mark - something he hadn't been able to do since he'd met Blaine - someone he could be himself with.
But Blaine… Blaine was perfect for Sebastian in every way; they complemented each other to a tee. He was perfection rolled up into a hideous sweater with matching bow tie. But part of the attraction for Blaine was his… his innocence. His love for life. His sweetness. The fact that he couldn't live with himself if he stepped on a bloody snail.
This made it very difficult to convince him to leave his boyfriend and continue on a life of debauchery with Sebastian instead.
Although they'd be magic together; Sebastian is sure of this.
"I'm not as tired as I thought I'd be," Mark says in a conversational voice, intent on keeping Sebastian's interest. "I worked like a dog yesterday, drank four gin and tonics, had sex all night with a bloody stud," he sends a secret smile to Sebastian at that, winking a bit at the end, "and all I want to do is go water skiing or something."
"Water skiing?" he's amused by the older man.
"Or something. I'm not sure."
The sit quietly again. It's comfortable, this silence, and Sebastian doesn't let his mind wander to the ex-Wabler-turned-best-friend again. All he does is let Mark rub his shoulders, kiss his neck, tangle their legs together; he knows their time is fleeting and he wants to make the most of it.
He hears a throat clear behind him and turns his head to the side.
Mark slides his hand up and down Sebastian's stomach, making him shiver a little, "I want to see you again. Like this, or maybe… in a more traditional way." When Sebastian doesn't say anything back he turns his head to catch the befuddled look on the boy's face, "What?"
"You… you want to date me? Like, for real?"
"I haven't been paying you all these compliments because I have good manners, Sebastian," the boy's eyes fall closed at that, his back almost minutely snuggling deeper into the warmth of Mark, "I mean everything. I think you're gorgeous, and intriguing, and I want to take you out. Go see a movie and make out through the trailers. Get dinner at that place with the breadsticks."
"You mean Breadstix?" Sebastian asks with another adorable smile on his face.
"Yes, smart ass," Mark laughs, hugging the boy tightly to his chest. He's said what he had to, done what he felt was right. Now it was up to the boy, this perfectly beautiful boy, to say something.
"You really don't know what you're getting into."
"My wife was a banshee. I can take any amount of snarkiness."
"Well," Sebastian bites his lip a little, thinking of more reasons, more axes to cut down this perfectly fine dream. As Mark watches the little sliver of pink lip slips out from between his lips and fuck if that doesn't make him want to sign the marital vows right now, "You're way older than me. How old are you anyways?"
"How old are you?"
That shuts him up. Mark slides a kiss onto his temple, letting his nose skid up into the coiffed hair around his ears, "I'm thirty-six. In case that matters."
Sebastian lets out a low whistle at that, something Mark can't help but take a little offence in, "But, c'mon, you spent the night with me! I don't exactly act like my life is half over, do I?"
He smiles down at the younger man, who tries not to smile back in return. The fingers that were caressing now begin tickling up and down Sebastian's sides and Mark watches in rapture as the boy twists and twirls and laughs,
"Okay, okay!" he shouts, latching onto the man's wrists and clutching them tightly around his chest, "You're not that old!"
"Damn right I'm not."
"Although you were humming along to that 80's song pretty hard at Scandals."
"Hey!" Mark bites playfully at Sebastian's ear, "Corey Hart's a classic!"
A/N: Don't expect too much for the next couple of weeks but this idea popped into my head and I'm completely in love with the idea of Sebastian&OlderMan.